


Stay

by sneakronicity



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:04:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneakronicity/pseuds/sneakronicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over.  Clint and Natasha help each other through the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Spoilers for the movie. I (sadly) owe nothing but the story itself.

“Stay.”

The word still hung in the air around them causing her to stop cold, her hand frozen on the door handle. She had expected it, had actually been surprised he had waited so long to ask, had waited until she was almost out the door before he stopped her. Sure, she could have offered, it wouldn’t have been the first time, but this time it was different. Sometimes a mission left them with such a high that they needed an outlet, a way to work off the pent up energy and excitement so they could sleep, while other times it was after a mission had gone badly that they sought comfort in each other’s arms. This time, though, they hadn’t just lost a man or two in the line of duty; this time it had been dozens, and they had died by Clint’s own hand. Maybe he hadn’t killed all of them, but he had planned it, executed each step, so their blood was on his hands nonetheless; at least that was how he saw it, mind control or not.

Slowly turning away from the door, Natasha felt her heart ache as she looked at him in the dark room, the pale moonlight filtering through the window bathing half of his face in silver while casting the other half in shadow. He sat forward on the edge of the bed, his forearms resting on his knees and his head hanging, eyes fixed unseeing on the floor. Now that the war was over and the adrenaline had faded, now that the team had disbanded and it was just the two of them again, he had stripped off the armour that had kept him going, laying his haunted soul bare before her. Just seeing him like this filled her with such anger and helplessness. Loki had killed many, had destroyed the city and would now pay the price for his crimes, but it was for this, for what he had done to Clint that she wanted to kill him. He was a God, she wouldn’t stand a chance, but that didn’t change the sentiment.

She wasn’t completely helpless, though. She couldn’t take away the memories nor the guilt, she couldn’t turn back time and make it all go away, but she could offer comfort in any way he needed it.

“It has been a while,” she said in a quiet voice, watching his shoulders shrug as he gave a bitter chuckle.

“Yeah,” was his only reply.

Hesitating only a moment longer, Natasha crossed the room to stand directly in front of him, his knees on either side of her legs. Raising her arms, she ran her hands through his short cropped hair, closing her eyes as Clint gripped her hips tightly and tugged her closer so he could lean his head against her stomach. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, her fingers running soothingly through his hair, until she felt warm, wet tears soak through her shirt. Frowning, her brown knitting together in concern, she stilled her movements.

“Clint...” she said quietly and she felt his body stiffen.

“Don’t,” he replied, his hands moving around to undo the button on her jeans, his lips pressing hot kisses on her stomach, trailing lower as more skin was bared. Natasha didn’t argue, clearly now was not the time for words. Words meant he would have to think about all that had happened, relive it, and that was the last thing he needed right now. So she gave in, pushed him back on the bed and let the moment take them both away.

There is nothing gentle about it as they used their bodies to forget, used their bodies like weapons set on destroying the memories that plagued them. It was rough and it was raw; it was loud and it was desperate, and when they finally collapsed in each others arms they were too tired to speak, too tired to think about what had driven them here.

Normally when it was over they slept, near enough but always with a distance between them; or she would dress and leave so when they woke the next morning, alone in their own beds, they could carry on and do their jobs as if nothing had passed between them the night before. But again, this time it was different. Tonight neither of them pulled away, content to just lay in the other’s embrace. Perhaps they were each waiting for the other to make the first move, or maybe they both needed the intimacy, but whatever the reason, when Clint drifted off to sleep it was with his head pillowed upon Natasha’s chest, her breathing and her heartbeat lulling him. 

For a while afterwards she lay awake listening to the pattern of his breaths, watching his eyes move beneath their lids and tracing lazy patterns on his shoulder with one fingertip. She couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. Would he start to heal? Would he slowly get back to the man he had been? And what about them? So much was different this time, so much had changed. Could they go back to how they had been before? More importantly, did she want them to?

She had lost him for a while there, almost lost him for good, and it had scared her. She could lie and say it had been nothing, that she had fought so hard to get him back because she owed him, but she knew that wasn’t completely true. There was much more to it than that, something much deeper, and maybe she wasn’t ready to face it yet, maybe it would all look different in the morning, but just for tonight she would allow herself a moment; just for tonight she would let herself relish in the feel of him against her, knowing that he was safe and, even if just for tonight, he was hers. They would never be normal, they would never live a normal life, but maybe they stood a chance at _something_ normal. 

Maybe change didn’t have to be so bad.


End file.
